Back to The Secret Garden
by SchuylerD
Summary: Mary Lennox comes home to Misselthwaite at 18 years old to find that her two friends Colin and Dickon see her in a new light. Her feelings have changed for both of them, but she's in love with only one.


Mary Lennox's return to Misselthwaite Manor was now imminent. All of the arrangements had been made and the occupants of the house awaited her arrival with bated breath. Colin Craven, Mary's first cousin, and Dickon Sowerby, Mary's close friend, wandered about the grounds, peering out to the horizon for a glimpse of her carriage. Colin threatened to mount his horse and ride out along the road while Dickon nodded silently, hanging back a bit and kicking at the earth with the toe of his shoe.   
  
"She should be here already!" cried Colin, a whiny tinge in his voice. He'd always been an impatient boy and now he was an equally impatient young man. Once thought to be lame, Colin had been walking for eight years now and was quite a horseman to boot. He'd grown to a lanky six feet plus one inch and his once pallid skin now glowed robustly in the crisp morning air.  
  
Dickon knew to remain silent when Colin was cranky, which was often. He didn't mind it at all, as his personality was more suited to quiet and tranquility, the essence of which he exuded in great quantities but that had little effect on Colin. Dickon had also reached his full height of six feet and the baby fat he used to carry had melted into muscle. Working in the Manor gardens with Ben Weatherstaff and tending to his animals on the moors had given him strength and resilience. He was also infinitely more able to stand a wait than Colin. Where Colin had taken to grabbing flower heads and picking them apart with gusto, Dickon simply leaned against a tree and breathed in the scent of the newly crushed petals.   
  
Dickon's sister Martha still worked at Misselthwaite Manor. The stout Housekeeper Mrs. Medlock had taken her on as apprentice with the understanding that when she retired, Martha was to become head Housekeeper for the manor. Presently, Martha approached the young men while wiping her hands on her apron. "I wondered where you'd got to," she said in a thick Yorkshire accent. "Cana wait for Miss Mary to come home, can yeh?" The smile she offered always punctuated her sentences but failed to placate Colin.  
  
"Where is she? Didn't they say the carriage would be here at eight o'clock?" he whined.  
  
"Ah!" laughed Martha. "'Tis only seven and forty, Master Colin," she said.   
  
"Bother!" Colin said with a growl, stomping off into the house.  
  
"Wha was tha' all about?" Martha addressed her brother.  
  
"He's -" Dickon began but realized he didn't have an adequate adjective to insert. "Colin" he finished with a slight shrug. "Does tha need any help inside, Martha?" he asked politely.  
  
Martha rolled her eyes to the Heavens before answering. "Colin's too highly strung. I don't know if he'll drive poor Miss Mary back to her boarding school. She'd wish she'd never come back with the way he's carryin' on."  
  
Dickon gave his sister a hearty grin. They'd both seen Colin at his worst and knew he was a high maintenance friend. Still in all, Dickon liked Colin's energy and found him somewhat amusing. At least Colin was no longer ill and could walkabout as much and as often as he pleased.   
  
Mary's absence had not boded well with her cousin; he'd thrown his first fit in two years when it had been announced that Mary would go to a boarding school when she turned thirteen. Archibald Craven didn't enjoy the idea of her leaving but saw that it was necessary for Mary to be educated properly and to learn to be a society woman. Thus she was sent to London for the duration of her schooling. She'd come back to Misselthwaite on for Easter and Christmas and her family of Archibald, Colin, Archie's brother Neville and his wife and children and of course the Sowerbys all gathered at the Manor to celebrate the holidays. Mary seemed to grow more and more mature as the years went by. She hadn't been able to come home at all in the past year, so no one had laid eyes on her for almost a year and a half. Colin expected her to be the same as always, but Dickon knew better. She was growing away from him, from them all.   
  
So it was that Dickon took to the moors to think about how he'd react to seeing Mary again. Would she be very different? Would she have a beau in the city? Had she forgotten their garden? Dickon stopped and looked back at the house upon the hill, so formidable and dark. Only a ways away stood the stone walls of their secret garden, shrouded in ivy and cared for by Dickon himself over the years. Colin had helped at first but with Mary gone, the garden seemed to lose some of its magic for him. Dickon felt the garden was saturated with magic, much more than before, and Colin just couldn't see it. For Colin, Mary was his antidote, his savior. For Dickon, his peace would always come from nature and being surrounded by animals and earth. Mary was the person he'd most like to share those things with, but never told her. She was far away now and though she returned, Dickon did not expect the girl he once knew but his heart held onto a sliver of hope that the child she'd been would still be wick inside the body of a young woman. It is the child in us that keeps our hearts, his mother always said. He hoped Mary had not lost her heart to the busy city and all it had to offer.  
  
* * *  
  
The rumble of wheels churning on the road and the shrill whinny of a horse drew Dickon out of his reverie. A carriage appeared on the horizon and Dickon began to run toward the house to alert Colin, Martha and the servants. There were two miles between the park gate and the stone court of the Manor and the carriage had already traveled along the grounds for many a minute while Dickon was lost in thought. He reached the door just as the carriage pulled into the courtyard. Colin flew out and ran up to the carriage before it'd even stopped. Mrs. Medlock appeared at the door with a frown plastered on her withered face.   
  
"I've told him a million times not to run like that, but he never listens!" she cried exasperatedly but with a smile. Her mood shifted abruptly as she looked upon the now stopped carriage as the footman opened the door. "Come now, she's home!" she said, disobeying her own rule about running and throwing herself toward the carriage.   
  
Dickon hung back as Martha came out onto the step to watch the proceedings. He caught his sister's worried glance and returned it. They weren't the kind of folk inclined to be in anyone's face, preferring instead to wait until the excitement had died down and everyone was in their right minds to make inquiries.  
  
Mary emerged from the carriage, clutching her skirts around her. She stepped down daintily, revealing for a moment her stocking covered ankle. Dickon took this in, noting that Colin would have missed it, being as close as he was to her. She looked radiant: her long dark blonde hair was pinned up under a fancy blue hat and only a few twisted tendrils hung about her rosy cheeks. Her dress of blue and eggshell had a laced collar and the equally laced hem hung all the way to her feet.   
  
Dickon's silent inventory was interrupted by Colin, who grabbed Mary about the waist and hoisted her into his arms, spinning her around in circles in the courtyard. Mary giggled, trying to hold onto her hat while being spun.   
  
"Colin Craven, release her immediately!" cried Mrs. Medlock, who tried to extricate the young man from Mary to no avail.  
  
"I'm only having a bit of fun, Mr. Medlock," Colin said as he finally set the flustered young woman down.   
  
"You've been taught not to play roughly with young ladies, Master Colin! Whatever shall we do with you?"  
  
"Tell my father, probably," he replied simply, used to being reported for his antics. "Though he won't be back for another month as it is so my punishment will just have to wait."  
  
Mrs. Medlock sniffed at the young man and addressed Mary. "Mary, it is so good to have you home!"   
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Medlock. I'm very pleased to be back," Mary said, looking from Colin to Mrs. Medlock and back again. Turning away from them, she looked toward the garden. "Is the garden still wick?"  
  
"We've been keeping it up for you, Mary," said Colin quickly, taking her arm. He guided her toward the house.  
  
"I trust you have, Colin," she replied.   
  
The entourage approached the step as the footman unloaded Mary's belongings and handed them off to the house staff. Colin still held Mary's arm yet she seemed to want to pull away from him. Dickon moved further away from the group so he could watch them all go inside and follow after.   
  
"Welcome back, Miss Mary," said Martha with a full grin and curtsy. "I've made up your room just the way thee likes it."  
  
"Thank you, Martha," said Mary, somewhat distractedly. She looked past Martha, into the house, then back at the carriage, and out toward the moors. She appeared to be searching for something or someone. Not finding it, Mary turned back to Martha. "Where's Dickon?" she asked.   
  
"Why, he's right here," said Martha with a giggle, gesturing toward her brother who lurked about ten feet away and remained partially hidden behind a great potted plant. "He's hidin' in the bushes just there."  
  
Dickon, having been found out, emerged from behind the foliage to face Mary.   
  
"Dickon!" said Mary with considerable enthusiasm. She pulled away from Colin and walked to where Dickon stood. She had to look up to see his eyes. "My, you've grown so tall!"   
  
"Aye," he said, looking into her large eyes and suddenly wondering if she thought his extra height was a good thing or not.   
  
The group had stopped, hesitant to enter the house without their guest of honor who so stubbornly kept them waiting as she spoke to her childhood friend. Colin, who could stand no longer a wait than three seconds, boldly approached the couple and in an almost complaining tone asked her if she wouldn't like to come inside and have some tea or a cake.   
  
Mary pried her gaze from Dickon and looked at her cousin. "Yes, of course," she said. And to Dickon, "You'll be joining us, won't you, Dickon?"  
  
The eagerness in her voice was not lost on him and he obligingly assured her he would indeed join the group.   
  
"Come now, Mary Lennox, we haven't seen you in almost two years. We've much to talk to you about," said Mrs. Medlock, ushering Martha into the house and gesturing for Mary to follow.  
  
Colin looked from Mary to Dickon and seemed to realize something had changed, but he was not so smart as to figure out exactly what. Mary herself could not place the change and so, with Colin tugging at her sleeve like a toddler, she finally turned from Dickon and walked through the familiar old paneled oak doors and into the enormous hall.  
  
Dickon entered after her and the manservant stationed at the door closed it behind them. The procession led to the drawing room, where tea and cakes were being set out for the guests. Martha flitted alongside Mary, whispering to her until Mrs. Medlock ordered the servant to take Mary's hat and make sure her belongings were being situated in her room. Martha curtseyed and rushed out of the room obediently.   
  
"Do sit down and rest yourself, Mary," ordered Mrs. Medlock in a matronly way.   
  
Mary obliged, taking a seat near the hearth. Colin quickly claimed the seat next to her while Dickon again chose to lurk rather than make his presence too obvious. A seat nearer to the door and outside the circle of conversation was a good enough vantage point for him to continue his scrutiny of Mary Lennox. As she chatted gaily with Colin and Mrs. Medlock, Dickon's gaze traveled over her body from head to toe, absorbing the changes that had taken place in her. She was taller and more weight helped fill out her womanly curves. When he'd first set eyes on Mary as a child, she was weak, pallid, thin and sickly looking. The woman who sat before him balancing a cup of tea on a saucer in her gloved hands looked a far cry from that small, angry little girl of her youth. Dickon hadn't cared whether she liked him or not at the time, for he liked her anyway. Now it was all different, and it did matter. And when Colin leaned closer to Mary as she spoke to her, Dickon acknowledged that he did feel the first pangs of jealousy begin in his heart.   
  
Colin grew up privileged while Dickon was just a common boy who loved the moors and working with his hands. Dickon had worked at Misselthwaite since Mary had gone, tending to her garden as promised. Although Colin had said he and Dickon took care of it, in truth the garden thrived due to Dickon's constant attention. Colin took the lush garden for granted and of late had not bothered to enter its stone walls.   
  
Dickon had never been envious of the grandeur that surrounded Colin. He felt sorry for the younger boy having lost his mother as a baby and being ignored by his father for so long, but those times were past and now Colin was the apple of his father's eye, healthy and energetic if not still prone to tantrums. It was Mary who played the deciding factor in any rivalry that would arise between the boys. Dickon had always felt that Mary liked him just a bit more than she liked Colin, and this thought comforted him, though subconsciously, whenever Mary seemed to spend more time with Colin than himself. Her journey to school came as a shock - he was losing one of his best friends to a life he'd never be part of. Now that Mary had returned, Dickon knew Colin would try his best to fit himself into the plan for Mary's life. He was in a much better position to offer her a good life, but marrying a cousin was not as acceptable as it had been, which worked to Dickon's advantage.   
  
"Dickon, come over here, don't hide away again," Mary said, beckoning him.  
  
Shaken from his thoughts, Dickon shyly approached Mary and Colin and took a seat across from them. Mary kept her hands neatly folded in her lap, the cup of tea now sat on a tray on the low table before her. Dickon wasn't sure what to do with his hands so he clutched his cap and kneaded it with his fingers. He looked down at his hands and saw the soil still under his fingernails. Worried that Mary would see the dirt, Dickon curled his fingers into a fist and hid them behind the fabric of his hat. When he looked up at her, she wasn't looking at his hands at all. She was looking straight into his eyes questioningly. Dickon read the silent worry that lurked in her gaze and longed to answer it with reassurance but this was neither the time nor the place.   
  
Martha appeared at the door and announced that Mary's room was ready.   
  
"I'd best go upstairs then," said Mary, rising.   
  
Colin immediately reached out to help escort Mary, but Mrs. Medlock chastised him loudly.   
  
"Colin Craven, leave the girl ALONE! Stop your pawing and let her go upstairs. My word, you are an insufferable child!" Mrs. Medlock huffed and puffed, her face growing red with frustration.   
  
Colin only laughed mischievously. "I'm much to large now to be called a child, Medlock," he said good-naturedly.  
  
Martha rescued Mary by taking her from the room quickly, while Medlock and Coin were having their little quarrel. Mary again had trouble keeping her eyes off of Dickon, which he noticed with a feeling of pride. He'd have to try and catch her after dinner. Surely, she would want to see their garden again, and he wanted nothing more than to show her the flowers that had bloomed in her absence.   
  
"Dickon," Colin called. "What say we go for a ride while Mistress Mary is being quite contrary up in her room?"   
  
"Riding?" Dickon echoed.  
  
"Yes, you know, on a horse?" Colin laughed again, a somewhat mocking laugh this time.  
  
"I-I don't think I'm up for ridin' right now, Colin."  
  
"Master craven you will be the death of me," sighed Mrs., Medlock, clutching her breast. "Do find something to occupy yourself with until dinner is served. You have just over an hour, but remember be back on time."  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Medlock," Colin said, rolling his eyes after the woman had quit the room. "What shall we do, Dickon? Mary's not like to come down before dinner and Martha probably talking her ears off up there."  
  
"I'm going to tend to th' garden, Master Colin," said Dickon, rising and heading for the door.   
  
"Ah, the garden. I haven't been there in ages. Are you keeping up with it?"  
  
"Aye," said Dickon quickly, not wanting to give Colin any excuse to invite himself along. "I'd best be getting to it," he said, swiftly exiting the room and running out the large oak doors. Once outside, Dickon breathed freely. He'd never felt so uncomfortable at Misselthwaite Manor-it had become almost a second home to him in the years past. He wondered what other changes would come about because of Mary's return and how he would deal with them all. Looking over his shoulder as he walked to the garden, he saw a female figure in an upstairs window. Mary. She was looking out over the moor and caught sight of him as he became visible on the path. Dickon looked back at her for a moment, unsmiling. He then turned into the evening breeze and made his destination clear. She would know where to find him if she wanted him. 


End file.
